How to Save a Life
by JemmiVoice
Summary: It's hard enough to lose someone you love, and to have to grieve for them. But when you are told you could have prevented it, and you risk losing all those who held trust in you - what can you do, when it's too late to save a life? Exiles 'verse.
1. Catch Me and I'll Still Fall Down

Disclaimer: I do not own CATS.

* * *

He knew that he was falling, yet he did not seem to feel the impact with that he knew should have happened. He just felt empty. Empty, and cold, and so, so tired.

The sky was light and grey above him, calm and peaceful. He felt that this was somehow appropriate, though for what he could not really tell. It did not matter, though, to him. Nothing really seemed to matter now.

It was a nice feeling.

Yet somewhere in his reverie of emptiness and cold, he could dimly sense a panicked presence, something that was drawing his train of thought to a figure near him. His gaze was drawn to his right, and observed the sight in front of him calmly, quietly. In his subconscious, he could tell that this was not normal, not natural for him. He shouldn't be so calm. But nothing like that did matter now.

"Tumble?"

The call was choked with tears, and Tumblebrutus was suddenly jolted into his brother's perspective on his situation. What had happened to him even he knew not, but it had to be bad. Very bad, for only that would ever evoke tears from his brother.

"It'll be alright, Pouncival." His voice was unfamiliar, strained and soft, and his words were strange to his own ears, not only in existence but in meaning, and yet he could tell that he was right. That his instincts were right.

His brother was kneeling beside him, one paw gently caressing his face, whilst he could feel the other on his abdomen. He was not even trying to control his tears, and dimly Tumblebrutus became aware of a faint pain under Pouncival's paw.

_Is this hurting you? I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry._

"No… Tumble, you won't die, you can't!" Pouncival sounded desperate, so desperate that Tumblebrutus found himself wishing that he could believe him.

"_Agápi_, you cannot do anything," he said gently, staring directly into his brother's eyes. "I'm not afraid."

"It shouldn't be like this," Pouncival sobbed, taking Tumblebrutus' paw in his own. "It isn't going to be… I won't let you die!"

"It will not hurt me, I promise. I think that it's my time now." His vision was starting to blur, and he felt even colder.

"No… no…"

"Shh, love, shh. Look at me," Tumblebrutus said quietly. "_Agápi_? Look at me." Hesitantly, Pouncival complied.

"We cannot change the will of the Everlasting Cat. She has come to take me with her, and I must go now. I promise – Pouncival, I promise I will wait for you. I will always wait for you."

"No, Tumble…"

"It isn't going to hurt anymore, Pounce." And he once again felt the truth in his words, for already he could feel himself slipping away – and the pain was getting less, as he drew in his last moments of life. "Love?"

He could feel the grip tighten on his paw. "Yes?"

Tumblebrutus was silent a moment more before answering. It was becoming harder for him to breathe. "Remember what we promised? When we were younger, do you remember what we said we would do?"

Pouncival's eyes widened, and his tears fell ever faster even as he answered. "If – if either of us were – were…"

"Were to die, and were suffering,"Tumblebrutus prompted. _I'm so sorry that it has to be this way. I wouldn't do this…_

_But you can't save me now._

"Then – then – we should kiss once more…"

"And take my breath away one last time," Tumblebrutus finished, barely hearing his own words, and suddenly feeling his eyes prick with tears of his own. "Please, love? Please, Pouncival."

At the sound of his name, the younger twin closed his eyes, head bowed for just a moment. And then he nodded. Tumblebrutus heard a gasp catch in Pouncival's throat, and his twin's breaths came quicker. Yet still he leaned over Tumblebrutus, and pressed their lips together gently. And with a sigh of thanks, Tumblebrutus released his last breath into his brother's mouth, then relaxed, eyes closed.

They never opened again.

* * *

Pouncival drew back slowly, his tears falling hard and fast now. His brother – his beautiful, happy, sweet Tumblebrutus – lay still. Completely still. The movement of his chest as he drew breath – not just a sight, but a feeling so familiar to Pouncival, drawn from countless nights spent lying together – had ceased.

And Pouncival knew that it would never occur again so long as he lived.

He bent over his twin's body, tears landing now on the fatal wound drawn deep into Tumblebrutus' stomach. His body heaved with sobs he could not bring himself to contain, for there seemed to be no point. There was no point to anything now.

Tumblebrutus was dead. His twin – his brother, his lover, his soul-mate – was gone. It was simply too much for him to take.

The only living being in a clearing of dead, he wept for the sole cat there whom he had known, the one who had taken down so many by himself, but had had to pay the terrible price.

_Why must Fate be so cruel to us? Why did I have to lose another brother to battle's bloody grasp?_

* * *

Admetus' breath caught in his throat as he rounded the corner, seeing his youngest brother on the ground and shaking with sobs. _Not another one_, he thought desperately. _Not after… not now._ Swallowing hard to try and rid himself of impending tears, he made his way over towards his little brother.

"Pounce?" he called shakily. "Who… who is it?"

When no answer came, he quickened his pace. _Who could it be? I've seen Xen and Misto… Plato's around here somewhere… but I haven't seen Lonz since we were separated… oh Vivat, please don't let it be Lonz…_

His train of thought was broken, however, when he saw the one his little brother was kneeling over. The last one, the very last one he would want it to be.

His other little brother.

"Oh no," he whispered, sinking down beside Pouncival. "Oh Heaviside, no. He's – he's – he's not…"

But one look at Pouncival's face told him all he needed to know, and at last triggered the tears that had been threatening to spill since discovering the other fallen among them.

"Tumble…"

* * *

"Munk?"

Munkustrap looked up to see his brother standing in the doorway of his den. "What is it, Tugger?"

Tugger came in, a slight frown on his face. "Something's bothering you."

Munkustrap sighed, but made no attempt either to deny or confirm the statement, choosing instead to let his gaze wander again.

"It's Xen and Vi again, isn't it?"

"They're so young," Munkustrap said quietly. "Too young."

"Munk –"

"Maybe I should have gone…"

"Okay, hold it right there," Tugger interrupted, cocking an eyebrow. "We've been through this before. You're the leader here now, Munkus, and we sort of need you alive more than they need you fighting and possibly dead." He huffed a laugh. "So ironic, isn't it? You're the best fighter in this entire tribe and you can't even go out fighting."

"I shouldn't have let them go, Tugger," Munkustrap continued, as if he had not heard his brother's previous words. "They don't have the experience, and –"

"They're damn good fighters, and you wouldn't have let them go otherwise," Tugger said firmly. "And you _know_ that they wouldn't be going if Alonzo didn't think they were up to it either." _And they're the only ones old enough anyway_ were the unspoken words that hung in the air between them.

Munkustrap made no answer to that comment immediately. He got up, and started to walk towards the entrance of his den, stopping before he was outside. He stared into the sky, trying to get his thoughts together before responding.

"I've been getting this feeling in my stomach all morning."

He heard nothing from behind him, so decided to continue. "It's –" He faltered. "Something bad's happened to them, Tugger."

"To who?"

Munkustrap sighed. "I don't know. But some of them… some of them…"

"The toms? Or your sons?"

There was a long pause.

"I don't know."

* * *

The clearing was ringing with a mixture of excitement and relief, courtesy of a note that had appeared that morning – slightly singed and sparkling a little, so presumed to have been flashed in by Mistoffelees.

_We'll be back sometime in the late afternoon. Alonzo._

All those present were eagerly anticipating the impending arrival of the toms, last seen more than three weeks previously, but more than that, there seemed to be a weight lifted off the Junkyard inhabitants. For all the time that the company of toms had been gone, there had been an immense fear – little spoken of but felt by most – that some, or indeed all, would not return. Alonzo's brief note had given them hope – not least because they had been assured that at least two of them were coming back.

And, as if that were not enough to pique excitement levels, Rumpleteaser, lacking in patience and desperate for information on the welfare of her brother and her mate, had been sitting watching the alleyways near the Junkyard for the better part of the day, and had returned mere minutes earlier saying that she had definitely seen some of the toms – and they were not too far away, by her reckoning. Munkustrap did note, upon hearing her news – also noting a slightly tense note to her voice – that she had neglected to mention how many she had seen. Or what condition they were in.

_Please let it not be too bad._

He could barely oppress his own eagerness to see them again – to talk with Alonzo and Admetus, to hold his sons to him and futilely swear never to let them out of his sight again – and indeed his own daughter, Athene, had gone to a spot closer to the entrance of the Junkyard to await them. But the part of him that was the leader of the Jellicles, that held responsibility over affection, told him that he needed to wait with the others, and be the sign to the returning toms that they were home.

_And safe._

And, of course, he thought, he would be able to see them all in one place for himself. Know that they were all back.

A great weight lifted itself off of Munkustrap's chest when Alonzo entered the clearing, though it was replaced quickly by concern when he saw that his closest friend was leaning heavily on Mistoffelees, who somehow seemed little troubled by the bigger tom's weight. He hurried forwards, and could see Cassandra doing the same out of the corner of his eye. Between the two of them, they relieved Mistoffelees of Alonzo, and helped the latter to sit down. Alonzo looked up at them, and when a small smile appeared on his face Munkustrap was none too quick about embracing him tightly.

"Thank Heaviside you're back," he whispered, and was comforted when he felt a returning squeeze, feeling some form of courage return to him, and released Alonzo to his waiting mate. He turned towards Mistoffelees, who – to Munkustrap's surprise – had tears streaming down his cheeks as he held Victoria. Munkustrap would have asked what was going on, and if he was alright, when he caught sight of more of the toms entering the clearing, and his heart stopped in his throat.

Admetus was coming into the clearing slowly, holding a sobbing Pouncival close to him, and looking close to tears himself. As Jemima and Exotica went to their respective mates, concern written on both their faces, Munkustrap heard Tugger call from behind him.

"Metus? What's happened?"

Admetus looked up at Tugger, and opened his mouth as if to respond. No words came out. He tried again, but words seemed to be beyond him, and Munkustrap suddenly felt a heaviness take hold of his heart.

And indeed, no answer was necessary when Plato entered the clearing behind his younger brothers, with an unmoving Tumblebrutus in his arms, the wound on his stomach plain to see.

_Oh no. Oh, no._ Munkustrap closed his eyes, a wave of grief washing over him. _Everlasting Cat, help him… August, help him._

He slowly backed away as several of the Jellicles advanced towards the quartet – if it could be called a quartet anymore – and moved to Alonzo once more.

"Do you – how – oh, Everlast," he murmured, hardly able to take his eyes off Tumblebrutus' body.

"He – he took down ten, fifteen by himself, Pouncival said," Alonzo replied quietly, voice shaking. "And then… He… he went peacefully, I think. Munk –" He cut off his sentence, suddenly looking even more drawn than he had been.

"Yes?"

"There's…" Alonzo drew in a shaky breath and began again. "There's something you need to know, Munk…"

But his words were cut off by a scream.

"NO! No, no, oh Heaviside, NO!"

Munkustrap froze. That wasn't just anyone screaming. Somehow, through his shock, his mind processed through all the cats in the tribe and came to rest on one who would see it first. The only queen now outside the clearing.

Athene wouldn't scream if it was just anyone.

And in a haze, his own harsh breathing the only sound in his ears, Munkustrap saw the final four toms enter the clearing. Coricopat was in front, clearly consoling a red-eyed Xenon, and behind them –

Munkustrap forgot everything at that moment. Forgot his position, his mate, every other cat in the tribe, as all his senses refocused on the young tom in Mungojerrie's arms, and the cut still evident, never to heal, at his throat.

Xenon had never seen his father move so quickly before, or with such reckless abandon. He broke through the cats in front of him, stopping only once he was behind Xenon, where Mungojerrie cradled his younger brother. He froze as his father fell to his knees, taking the small body – so much smaller in death – into his arms.

_I promised I would look out for him. I promised I would keep him safe._

And his heart seemed to break into an infinite number of irreparable pieces, as, for the first time in his life, he heard his father cry.

* * *

_Author's note_

Oh my god. Damn.

WHY?

Sorry. I just… I didn't think it would be this angsty. But it sort of is. And there is more angst to come. So much more.

Hello, by the way. Sorry for my prolonged absence… I can't really say much more than that. I lost my muse and my plot bunny for my previous fic, and have been spending the past five months writing other things, one of which I am going to try and start posting within the next couple of weeks.

It's just that this came to me on Saturday night, and I wrote things. And then came up with the story. And wrote more things. So yes. And if things are moving too quickly for you, or if you're confused, don't worry. There will be explanations (and a lot of time skipping around) to come. So bear with me.

Side note: this takes place about three and a half years after the musical; and I can imagine you can figure out the OCs and who they are related to.

~JV


	2. Shattered All Around Me

Disclaimer: I do not own CATS.

* * *

Pouncival's first thought was that he had never seen a building quite that big before.

After all, he hadn't. The junkyard, whilst housing an entirely respectable tribe of cats, did happen to be on the outskirts of a slightly dingier part of London, and buildings weren't built for their height, or, indeed, for anything much other than to be used for housing or the occasional small business. And, of course, he had never really taken much notice of the area outside the junkyard, considering that he had never really had much need to leave it.

But, as he had found out on their way to this place, the abandoned building in which this tribe of cats lived had to be big. After all, their tribe was a good five times the size of the Jellicles, according to one particular tom acting as a spokesperson, and most of the various groups of cats that lived around the city didn't have the luxury of living in a place like the junkyard, or any outdoor space. They had to find buildings that could house the entirety of their tribe – many of whom did not even have humans with whom they could stay…

What else that tribe had to suffer through he didn't know, as Pouncival had stopped paying attention after a while, in favour of joining Tumblebrutus and Admetus in betting on how long it would take for Alonzo to lose his patience with the tom's incessant rambling.

Yet as they drew closer, something struck him about the place. Amid the endless – and very direct – lamenting about the situation of his tribe, the spokestom had made mention of the fact that they were a flourishing tribe, over one hundred and fifty strong, with lots of kittens. And Pouncival knew, from experience and his own actions, that kittens were _noisy_. Not just kittens – an entire tribe, an active tribe, was noisy in its own right.

And yet there was utter silence from within the building. He was no expert, but Pouncival could tell that it was far too quiet.

"It's awfully quiet," Tumblebrutus piped up at his side, echoing his sentiments. "It's strange."

Coricopat had a frown on his face, and there was some misgiving in his eyes as he looked over at Tumblebrutus. "I do not like the feel of this place," he said slowly. "There is something amiss here."

"'S'not usually this quiet," a cat from the resident tribe spoke out. "It's never quiet."

There were murmurs of assent all around, and many a cat turned an apprehensive eye towards the building. And as they gradually slowed and stopped, close to the building, a question began to run through the throng of cats:

"Do we go in, or not?"

* * *

Some were saying that Macavity's forces would surely be waiting within the building, holding the queens and kittens captive, whilst others were arguing that there was no sign of anyone being within their home, and that it would be wiser to look elsewhere. Which then, of course, led to scathing questions as to _where_ they would be expected to look, and for how long, and did they really think that Macavity's forces could be stop by their comparatively small band of toms, all still unfamiliar to one another.

The ones who had suggested a peaceful surrender in return for possibly getting their loved ones back, and then only possibly alive, had been asked quite seriously if they would like to go and join Macavity's side of the fight.

Admetus had been watching and listening to this debate for long enough that he had stopped registering which side of the argument was winning, vaguely noticing snatches of the leader of another group and Alonzo growling at each other, and other strangers who had chosen not to partake in the decision making conversing with his friends. And then, his attention was drawn by what he recognised to be one of the Jellicles slipping away from the group.

Silently moving away from the others, he found himself walking towards Coricopat, who was leaning against the side of a nearby building with a strangely vacant expression on his face. As Admetus watched, the other cat tensed up, before blinking very hard, and, much to Admetus' surprise, swearing very forcefully.

He had never heard Coricopat swear before. Admittedly, he had never heard him say very much before at any rate, but swearing – he hadn't thought that either of the mystic twins were inclined towards such vulgar action. Apparently, though, Coricopat was.

"Is everything oaky?" he asked tentatively. Coricopat whipped his head round and looked very much like he was about to launch into an attack, when something calmed in his eyes, and he slumped against the wall again.

"I really, _really_ hate the subjective future."

That threw Admetus off.

"Sorry – what?"

"I hate the bloody subjective future. It's messing with my head."

"Sorry, the – what?"

Coricopat sighed. "The subjective future. I'm seeing what _could_ happen if certain decisions are made… or not. And it's bloody pissing me off, because I can't control what things I see. I just… see them. And it's not that pleasant."

"The – wait a minute. I thought you once told me quite explicitly that you and Tantomile couldn't see the future," Admetus said, confused. "You got really snippy with me and I think that was the first time I ever thought that you actually had emotions."

"Really? Oh," Coricopat said vaguely. "When was that? Because if it was more than two years ago, you'd be correct. Things have… things have changed."

"Changed?"

"Remember when I vanished – you know, after I lost my mind and the thing with Tantomile and that?"

"Um…"

"When I came back to myself, I found that I was getting glimpses of – why do you look so uncomfortable?"

"No reason. So… what are you seeing?" Admetus asked, trying to steer the conversation away from unwanted topics. Coricopat seemed to sense this, but, much to his relief, didn't comment. His face took on a focus which was comforting, in a way. Reminiscent of how Coricopat had been constantly, a long time ago. And his feelings were only strengthened by the mystic's answer to his query.

"Something which I think will make up their minds about what we need to do."

* * *

"Where'd you two get off to?" Tumblebrutus demanded as Coricopat and Admetus slipped back into the throng of toms, many of whom were still muttering and shooting glares at each other, but they had at least stopped openly arguing loudly, Coricopat noted.

"You missed all the fun," Pouncival added nonchalantly. "Lonz was getting all worked up by the brown one over there, and then one of them said something, I don't know what, and it took me and Plato to hold Alonzo back. Quite entertaining, really. I haven't seen him lose his temper in ages."

"Plato and I," Coricopat corrected absentmindedly, eyes searching the cats gathered before him. "Where _is_ Alonzo? I need to talk to him."

"He's over that way," Tumblebrutus said, jerking his head as he spoke. "We thought it would be – hey!"

Coricopat paid him no heed, however, as he had already begun to make his way over to Alonzo, who was shooting glares at the aforementioned brown cat that had apparently been disagreeing with him, and Coricopat almost felt a stab of pity for the unfortunate. He himself had been on the receiving end of Alonzo's lack of patience and quick temper before, and whilst he could barely recall it, having been mostly lost inside his own mind at the time, he had felt the anger radiating off the other cat quite strongly. And if this was a cat that Alonzo did not know, and therefore had no cause to maintain a good relationship with…

"Bloody little prick, thinks he can just turn up and… ngaah…"

"Lonz, I need everyone's attention. Now."

"Wh – Cori! Where'd you get off to?"

"Nowhere. I need to talk to them. All of them. _Now_."

"Cori, is something –"

"Look, can you just get their attention or something?"

Alonzo looked at him sceptically. _I know he still holds things against me, but surely he can listen to reason…_

"Trust me. It's important, Alonzo. I know what I'm doing." There was a tense silence.

"Okay," Alonzo said finally. He turned to face the crowd of toms in front of him, and took in a deep breath.

"OI! LISTEN UP, YOU LOT!"

Coricopat had to admit, that while he personally had no love of loud noises or dealing with crowds in general, yet wouldn't have the faintest clue on how to make them shut up, Alonzo had used his considerable (and much louder than usual) voice to great effect on this one. They were silent now, and even if they were radiating apprehension in waves – not the most pleasant of emotions to be picking up, but regardless – silence was his territory.

"We should not go into the building."

And then the silence was gone. _They cannot keep quiet? Everlasting Cat…_

"We – hold on just a minute there," a cat interrupted. Coricopat recognised him as the one Alonzo had been shooting daggers at just moments ago. "Who are you to say what we are and aren't to do?"

"I happen to know that Macavity and his forces are planning an ambush, and if we leave within the next ten minutes, perhaps, we should have the upper hand," Coricopat said nonchalantly. This, as he had expected, triggered more noise from the edgy crowd. _Just great_.

"And how would _you_ know that?" The same cat. _What is his problem?_ "What are you anyways? Spy for –"

"Coricopat has my full and complete trust."

He turned to see Alonzo standing behind him, eyes fixed on the brown tom. "I sent him off to scout ahead while the rest of you lot were bickering amongst yourselves. He's not often wrong, and I would suggest you listen to him."

_Thank you. Good cover up._

_No worries. Where _did_ you get off to, anyway?_

_Places._

"Oh. So, we're goin' on the word of a good for nothing little runt from the streets. How're _we_ supposed to know that you're not a –"

"Ranian, drop it, just _drop it_," Alonzo snarled. Coricopat frowned.

_Admetus?_

_Whoa! Who's there – what the – _

_It's me. Coricopat._

_Oh. Hey._

_Who is that cat – Ranian? Does Alonzo know him?_

Coricopat could see Admetus' face darken. _Yeah, Lonz knows him. So do I, actually. He used to be part of the Jellicles._

_Used to be?_

_Long story – I'll tell you more when we're out of this mess, but he left with a whole crowd who supported my father's views on things._

_Things?_

…_Alonzo._

_Al – _

_I'll tell you later._

With a barely perceptible nod, Coricopat turned his attention back to the task at hand. Regardless of how annoying the strange cats were, or the grievances his comrades had with them, he wasn't prepared to have blood on his paws from a preventable attack if he could help it. Bickering could wait.

It was time to give Macavity some hell to pay.

* * *

"Pouncival, get down!"

Pouncival had barely taken in his brother's words when Admetus came rushing forwards, shoving him to the ground. His intentions became clear when, not two seconds later, the dust that had been raining down was joined a fair portion of the ceiling and floor above their heads. The air became a haze of white plaster and dustmotes, and all Pouncival found he could do was keep his head down and try to filter the air he was breathing.

It took several minutes before he felt confident that the ceiling had stopped falling into the room, and dared to raise his head.

"Metus! Metus!" he called, shaking his brother. Admetus' eyes flickered open, and Pouncival breathed a faint sigh of relief. "You alright?"

"I think so," Admetus replied. A quick once-over showed Pouncival that although his older brother was covered in dust, and looked a little dazed, he appeared to have taken no injury from the cave in. He extended his paw and Admetus took it, coughing as he was pulled to his feet. As soon as he was up, however, he took a quick look around, and then ran out of the room.

"What – Metus, where are you going?" Pouncival called, racing after the older cat.

"Out of here!" Admetus called back. "This place is bloody unstable – and besides, Lonz'll be expecting us, though I reckon things'll have started already!"

"Wait!" Pouncival yelled, turning a corner. "What about Misto and Vivo – they're still in the building!"

Admetus, though up ahead, stopped running and turned back to face his younger brother, looking exasperated.

"Find them, and let's get out of here!" And with that, Admetus turned around, and was soon out of sight. Pouncival stared after him for a moment before Admetus' words kicked in, and then he began to follow him, desperately hoping that Mistoffelees would answer him.

_Misto. Misto, are you there?_

_Pouncival?_

_Hi. Is Vivo with you?_

_He's close by – why?_

_Metus says that we need to get out – we nearly got caught by a roof falling in on us._

_Heaviside! Are you al – _

_We're fine, but Admetus says that we need to get out of here._

_Kay. _ Misto sounded kind of panicky, he realised. _Where should we meet you?_

_Out the front, I suppose. And keep calm, okay?_

_Right. But – where are we going?_

Pouncival sighed. If only they didn't – but they did. Of course they had to. Scouting the building was fruitless, now that it was falling to pieces on them. And the rest of their tribe was already there…

_We're going to the fighting._

* * *

"_Pounce!"_

_He turned, and, dragging his claws through another cat (one of Macavity's, and good riddance too, he thought), he smiled, slipping into the tiniest of side paths where a very familiar tom was already waiting._

"_TT, there you are!"_

"_Thank Everlast you're here," Tumblebrutus said as they embraced._

"_We need to get back," Pouncival murmured into his brother._

"_In a minute. We'll go back, just…" Tumblebrutus breathed a sigh. "I'm so glad you're still here."_

* * *

"Pouncival, Pouncival, wake up!"

_Tumblebrutus smiling, laughing, even as they were surrounded by death and destruction…_

"You're having a nightmare, please wake up!"

_Those last, desperate words… a plea for death… life fading even as he watched, from that one whom he had come to know as well as he did himself…_

"Pouncival!"

_But now there was something else, light and delicate, and tugging him away from that place of despair, and into somewhere lighter but everything was shaking and someone was calling his name and you couldn't resist that voice_

And he was crying as he woke, and Jemima was there, holding him close and crying with him, and there was nothing.

There was nothing in his heart in the place Tumblebrutus had always occupied, and though he knew not why, he cried for it, and its loss, and for that it would never return.

He didn't go back to sleep that night. There were too many nightmares awaiting him, and too many of them were happy.

And all of them were memories.

* * *

_Author's note_

And here is your helping of angst for the day!

I'm really sorry about the late update – this chapter was giving me grief, and… I think I have a problem with second chapters. My sister advised skipping it, but somehow I didn't think that would be the best idea.

Anyway, hopefully you can sort of get that I'm skipping backwards and forwards in time – and the next chapter is mostly going to be in the aftermath, back in the junkyard, so you'll get to see a bit of what's happening there.

_Cocobutterrox_, _Slytherin1595_, and _rovalo_ – thank you so much for your lovely reviews for the last chapter.

Until next time, ladies and gents.

~JV


	3. You Should Be So Ashamed

Disclaimer: I do not own CATS. I have never owned CATS. And I probably will never own CATS.

Note: The latter half of this chapter is a bit OC centric, so if you don't like that… Your call.

"And you're absolutely sure it's Macavity?"

"Positive. We saw him for a moment, while… while…" The cat broke off, eyes downcast and voice trembling.

"He only – he only took the toms?" Alonzo questioned from his position beside Munkustrap, brow furrowed. "Why? Don't answer that. How? You've got a pretty big tribe – how did he manage it?"

"You wouldn't believe it unless you were there. There were so many of them… I'd hazard a guess as to four of them for every tom of ours, maybe?"

Munkustrap couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. "Four times as many? And you don't know how that number occurred?"

The stranger shook his head. "I'm only here now because there were a few of us assigned to protect the queens and kits. A couple of my friends are trying to track him down, and the rest of us – well that's why I'm here, you see."

"What do you want?" Munkustrap asked, his voice sounding harsher than he had intended, but his mind racing in thought too quickly to care. If these were the numbers the Napoleon of Crime had accumulated…

"If we're going to get the rest of the toms back, we'll need help. And that's what I'm asking for. Could you – would you be able to send some of your toms to help us?" The tom was leaning forwards now. His words were remarkably calm, for one who had seemingly faced so much, but his eyes were conveying a different message entirely. They were eager, waiting, and Munkustrap was suddenly under the impression that this cat had other intentions in mind. And knowing that look, darker ones.

"Is that all you're asking for?"

The cat was thrown by the question, which he clearly hadn't expected. "I – I don't think –"

"I don't believe the answer you're allowed to give is 'no', so I would suggest answering quickly, else I'll deal with you myself, with my your leave, Munkus, and believe me," Tugger continued smoothly, turning back to the now trembling tom, "I do suspect you'd rather deal with him than experience what I'll happily put you through if it comes to that. Yes?"

"Alright! Alright. We were – we were also thinking that, well…"

"Hurry up, we haven't got all day."

"We were thinking that we could try to take down Macavity completely. He's a threat, and… We can't be the only ones who want him gone. Don't you?"

Munkustrap glanced at Tugger, who was looking lost in thought. As if by an invisible touch, his eyes flicked up to meet the younger tom's, and they stayed there for a moment, Munkustrap hoping that he could convey his thoughts to his brother. Were they ready? Would they be willing to take down their own sibling?

At length, Tugger closed his eyes, and gave an imperceptible nod, which was all the signal Munkustrap needed. He turned back to the stranger.

"How many toms are we talking?"

"As many as we can spare – you do realise how bloody vague that number is? As many as we can spare by tomorrow morning, isn't that just a bit much to ask?"

"He's only looking out for his tribe, Al, although I do wonder if it was wise to leave the queens and kits virtually unprotected."

Munkustrap had to hide a smirk at the incredulous expression that was growing on Alonzo's face. "Don't tell me –"

"They're a little more… traditional than we are. Queens have their place, as do toms." Munkustrap shrugged. "It's just a way of life."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it, though…"

"Business first, Al, then you can gripe." Munkustrap paused, gathering his thoughts. "You're going."

"You couldn't stop me. And you, of course."

Munkustrap shook his head. "No."

Alonzo fixed him with a very well-trained 'are you kidding me' face. "No? You're – you should be – Heaviside, Munk, you're our best fighter!"

"And, in case you had forgotten, I'm the leader of the tribe, and I'd rather not leave them. I can't leave them," Munkustrap said quietly. "Tugger's staying too, and he's actually the one that told me I should stay in the first place, so if you have an issue with that, take it up with him."

"I don't believe this. I can't lead them, Munkus!" Alonzo said agitatedly.

"If I didn't think you could, you wouldn't be the Protector. I think I may have told you this a hundred times, but I'll tell you again – you have been the Protector for a good two years, you're actually very good at it, and you will be fine," Munkustrap said patiently, rolling his eyes.

"You don't make it… never mind. Metus and Plato."

"Yes, definitely. Tumble and Pounce… Jerrie –"

"No," Alonzo said vehemently. Munkustrap sighed.

"Al, I realise you have something against him, and that you don't trust him –"

"Too right I don't."

"But I do, and he can hold his own better than anyone else in the tribe save you or I. He's going and that's final."

"Everlasting…" Alonzo growled under his breath. "Cori, and I get equal veto power over the rest of them."

"Fair enough," agreed Munkustrap. "Xenon." Alonzo looked surprised.

"Xen? Are you sure about that?"

"He can hold his own in a fight, I've seen him. If he doesn't go… asides from the numbers, he'll… I think he'll think he's not good enough, but he is. I know he is. Who else… Misto?"

"Um."

"Mm."

"He'll have to go, won't he?"

"Yes. Yes, he will."

"They can't wait until he's prepared to do magic again, can they?"

"Unfortunately not. I hope he doesn't get himself killed out there…"

"How many is that? I've lost count."

Munkustrap did a quick recap in his head. "Nine, I think."

Alonzo frowned. "Didn't that cat want more?"

"Ten'll be the maximum, I reckon, but I don't know who else to send."

Catching the look on Alonzo's face, Munkustrap frowned, and fixed his gaze on the other cat. "What are you thinking?"

"Dad, I'm not a kitten anymore."

"You're not an adult yet, you're not going."

"Munk?"

"Dad, I'll be an adult in two months. What's two months?"

"You're still not going."

"Munk, I do have –"

"Dad, I can do this. I know how to fight, I'm not –"

"Regardless of whether you think you can or not, you're still too young, and you won't be able to cope with it. You aren't going, and that's final."

"Actually, it's not."

"Lonz?"

"Two things. One, you _did_ give me veto power on who's going or not for the last one, and two, you said, and I quote, "nine months of training absolute minimum". Vi's had nearly ten. He's technically allowed to do this…"

"So why don't – Vi, go."

"But Dad –"

"_Now_."

Alonzo breathed a sigh of relief as Munkustrap's youngest left, immediately regretting it as his closest friend's furious gaze turned to him. He opened his mouth to begin his argument, but Munkustrap beat him to it.

"Lonz, you could send Bajardo. He's older. Why are you so_ insistent_ on sending _both_ of my sons on this suicide mission?"

"Because, Munkustrap, Vi happens to be damn good at fighting! Well, better than Bajardo at any rate. He can beat Misto –"

"_Anyone_ can beat Misto, Alonzo, my _daughter_ can beat Misto. _Your_ daughter could probably take on Misto and come out on top. That proves nothing."

"And he can hold his own against some of the older cats. I'm serious. I wouldn't have suggested him if I didn't think he'd be going into it with a fighting chance." He paused. "There isn't room for sentimentality here. I wish there was."

"There is for everyone else." He did not need to say the words _including you_ – they were as forefront in Alonzo's mind as if they had been seared onto his brain.

"I'm sorry."

"You aren't. But that's alright." Munkustrap fixed his gaze solidly on Alonzo's – no longer ferocious, but… almost _pleading_. "If things start getting really dangerous and you can get him out of there, _do_."

"What about Xenon?"

"Xen…" Munkustrap sighed, looking suddenly pensive. "He's independent. I can't control what he does anymore. But… Alonzo, promise me that you'll look out for him. Vivo. He doesn't know what he's getting himself into."

"I think he's ready – but if it eases your mind, I'll keep an eye on him as often as I can. I promise. And Xenon too."

Munkustrap nodded slowly, looking, if nothing else, the slightest bit reassured. "Thank you."

The junkyard seemed very small and close to Xenon at that moment, what with all the cats gathered in the clearing, saying their goodbyes. He was getting a faint sense of claustrophobia, but at the same time, he welcomed it. The tight, secure feeling that the junkyard emanated was something he had had his whole life, and though he was loathe to admit it, he was feeling quite scared of leaving it behind properly for the first time in his life. Properly in the sense that there was a chance – a very real chance – that he might not be coming back.

He could see his brother not far from him, talking with Athene and smiling at her words, and a pang of something he could not identify – longing? Jealousy? – built up inside him. How could Vivo take it all in his stride so easily? How could he leave home with no fears, no qualms?

Xenon sighed, sinking back a little on his perch at the edge of the clearing. He was expecting to simply sit there until Alonzo gave the order to head off, with perhaps a quick goodbye to his family. Or not. Watching his father grasping Admetus into a brief embrace, he was struck with a pang of longing. He didn't have anyone to say goodbye to, not really. There was his sister, yes, but apart from her there was no one else his age. Or at least, that he was close to. He had always felt keenly the repercussions of being just a little older than his peers, and never more so than today. And he certainly wasn't expecting much in the way of goodbyes from his family.

Which was why when his father came over to him, he could barely keep the surprise from showing on his face.

"Are you alright, Xen?" Munkustrap asked, kneeling down to eye level with his eldest son. About to answer the way he thought he should ("Yes, I'm fine, raring to go, etcetera…"), he was struck again by the thought that this could be the last he would see of his father. He certainly didn't want to seem weak. But he didn't want to lie. And so, against his better wishes, he shook his head. He was surprised, then, when his father pulled him into a tight hug.

"It's alright. A little fear keeps you alert," Munkustrap said quietly. "I'll be thinking of you the whole time you're gone, Xenon. Keep yourself safe."

He tried to fight the trembling feeling in his voice as he murmured back, "I will, Dad, you know I will."

And then, whispered into his headfur: "Keep an eye out for Vivo too. Please."

And, unable to bring himself to speak, he nodded, trying to convey things that he could not put into words to his father. And perhaps Munkustrap understood, because Xenon could have sworn that he felt his father's arms tighten a little around him before they released him to go to his mother.

And to him, that made all the difference.

Xenon sank down on the path, barely aware of the light snow crunching beneath his weight. It was almost the first time since the company had arrived back at the junkyard that he had been alone, and he was thankful for the space and the comfort it offered him. Though it had been but a few days since his brother and Tumblebrutus had been laid to rest beside the latter's elder brother – or so he had heard the older grave contained – he had had little respite from concerned friends, family, and various others. He closed his eyes, relishing the quiet, but snapped them open when he heard footsteps moving quickly towards him. He got to his feet slowly, but had hardly risen from his seat when a cold paw slapped him in the face.

"Athene!" he cried, facing his attacker, too shocked to get more words out at first. "What – what was that for?"

"What do you think you're doing, running off like that?" his sister demanded, her face hard. "Don't you care about how the rest of us feel?"

"Care – Athene, I needed some space. Of course I care, but I – I –" Athene broke in, however, before he had a chance to sort through his thoughts.

"Do you even realise what our parents are going through?" she snarled, eyes snapping. Xenon was helpless to answer. "Mum can't stop crying – you know how close she and Vi were! Dad – do you realise how much he's suffering? He has to lead this tribe – he has to fucking lead this tribe no matter what happens, and he's just lost his son!

"And me. Xenon, Vivo was my _twin_. He's the closest friend I've _ever_ had, and now he's gone! He's gone." She turned away for a moment, but her head whipped up again, and the fury and grief in her eyes was greater than Xenon had ever seen it before. "Why didn't you do something? You were there – you should have kept him safe!"

"Thene, I –"

"Dad told you to keep him safe! He told you to watch out for him, and what did you do? You left him, and he _died_. He was killed, and you didn't do anything to stop it!"

"Athene, that's – that's not how it is," Xenon replied, fighting to prevent the sick feeling in his stomach making its way into his voice. "We were separated, and I knew that – Athene, you don't know what it was like. There were so many of them, it was all we could do to try to keep ourselves alive! I –"

"He's your little brother," Athene interrupted, her voice cold. "Surely you could have at least made an attempt to reach him and _get him to_ –"

"It was bloody warfare out there!" Xenon screamed, reaching the end of his patience. "I _couldn't_ have reached him, there were five of them to every one of us – we were separated, and I couldn't find him again! Even if I'd wanted to –" He stopped abruptly, realising what he had just said. But it was too late.

"Even if you'd _wanted_ to save him?"

He couldn't talk. His stomach was churning, and his eyes were stinging with every word she spoke.

"You didn't care." She spoke as if she had just reached a realisation, light and breathless, and it seemed to strike something up in her. She turned her gaze back to him, and he flinched at the cold malice he could see in her expression. "You_ don't_ care," she snarled. "You're that low, putting yourself before someone who needed life just as much." She began to walk away, and Xenon could hear her as she muttered under her breath.

"_Pathetic._"

"No, Athene."

She turned back, her eyes burning. "No, _what_?"

"I'm not pathetic, and I wish you wouldn't call me that. I know – I know what Dad said to me. I know what he said, but I don't think he'd have wanted me to go out and get killed as well! I – I'm sorry that I couldn't do anything else, and… and… Athene, you're –"

"You know what?" Athene's voice was gentler now. Gentle and colder than the air they were standing in.

"You can say you're sorry. You can say you would have done something else. You can make as many excuses for yourself as you want, but you know what?" She leaned in closer.

"Nothing you say – nothing you do – none of that matters now. You can beg on your knees forever, but it isn't going to do anything. You can say that you'll do better next time, but there isn't going to be a next time. Because Vivo's dead. He isn't coming back." She paused, letting the words sink in before delivering her final blow.

"And it's all. Your. _Fault_."

She straightened up, lifting her eyes from her older brother kneeling in the light snow that was beginning to settle on the ground, and walked away, head held high. She was trembling, whether from the cold or her anger it was hard to tell, but Xenon could tell instinctively that there would be no tears in her eyes. His gaze wavered as he stared after her, trying not to do everything he had assumed he mustn't do in times like these, and failing, to his utter shame.

There would never be tears from Athene, so long as he was the one shedding them in her stead.

_Author's Note_

…This is late. I know. And I apologise profusely, whilst offering a small army of feeble excuses:

I've had exams; I've been studying for exams; I was doing NaNoWriMo; I completely lost my inspiration for writing fanfiction; I couldn't figure out where to go with this story; real life. Did I mention that I lost my inspiration?

And then, all of a sudden, about five days ago, I got it back again! So I decided, among other things, to get cracking with this story. So here is Chapter Three. I do apologise for the OCs, but that's just how this turned out. Trust me, the next chapter will be pretty much all canon characters. And I do hope that you're able to follow the whole switching timeline thing well enough – it should be fairly obvious which bits take place when, or so I hope.

Anyway, here it is. Some reviews might be nice as well – they don't even have to be lengthy. But they make my day – any author's day.

~JV


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